


The Iron Lord

by freddi11



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, all the stannis feelings in this one, and baratheon brothers feels as well, i can't accept another version of these events basically, i like this headcanon of mine too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddi11/pseuds/freddi11
Summary: The Siege of Storm's End. Stannis' POV, more or less.





	1. See you in King's Landing, brother

“We ride for Ashford before first light.” Robert declared in a tone that clearly indicated he had heard enough.

The rest of the war council kept silent. The debate had been going on for more than three hours. Although on a new wave of optimism after the triumph at Summerhall – three battles won in a day, had there ever been a greater feat in the history of the Seven Kingdoms? – the mood amongst the rebels was still more than cautious. Rumours had reached them that Mace Tyrell had called his banners and was making his way eastwards. The Tyrells were the most powerful House still on King Aerys’ side. Although they had been joined by Lords Grandison and Cafferen, the rebellion was still nowhere near strong enough to deal with the host of Highgarden.

And so they had spent most of the day arguing back and forth, contemplating their next move. In the end, the choice had fallen on Ashford, a small and seemingly insignificant castle in the Reach. Insignificant enough not to draw attention to them until necessary, but directly in the path the Tyrell army would need to take if they were marching on Storm’s End.

Some of the leaders of the rebellion were less than pleased with their decision. But they had sworn loyalty to Robert Baratheon, the man with the best claim to the throne among them. And if the Mad King was to fall, they would have to stand united. They could deal with their disagreements later.

The lords and knights got up to leave to prepare themselves for the morning’s ride, when Gawen Wylde, the Master-at-arms for House Baratheon, broke through the silence. “Lord Robert – what about the castle? What about Lord Renly? He is just a boy, we have to leave him here. And we can’t leave Storm’s End unattended. The loyalist forces will very likely attack us here first. Someone has to stay behind and hold the castle for us.”

Everyone in the Great Hall turned to face the young Lord of Storm’s End. Ser Gawen was right, they had to put someone in charge of the castle. The rebels had been so occupied with deciding their next move that they had all but forgotten about this question. Who would Robert choose?

Sitting a few feet apart from the others, all but hidden in a niche of the Great Hall, a young man with black hair and deep blue eyes, wearing the gold and black of House Baratheon, had hardly paid the discussion any attention. He had to attend, it was his duty as younger brother to Lord Robert. Had he been somebody else, he would have put his own ideas forward. But he knew all too well that they would not listen to him.

Stannis Baratheon was used to living in his brother’s shadow. They were only separated by a year, yet they could not have been more different. Where Robert was loud and loved laughter and a good fight, Stannis was quiet, reserved, perhaps even shy. Robert loved to make fun of his brother in front of others, sometimes even when he knew Stannis was listening. “He’s got the personality of a lobster.” the young Lord of Storm’s End once had told his bannermen, to shouts of laughter.

Stannis had said nothing. He had simply pretended not to care.

They never had understood each other. It had got worse after Renly, their youngest brother, had been born. Their parents, Lady Cassana and Lord Steffon, had gone to the Free Cities to acquire a fool to entertain their youngest son. On the way home, with Storm’s End less than half an hour away, their galley had been caught in a storm. Helplessly, Stannis and Robert had watched on the cliff as the ship sank, burying their parents in the depths of the sea.

But while Robert had seemingly learned to live with their parents’death, Stannis still found himself having nightmares about that evening more than five years ago. He never told anyone, he would not have known how to for a start and it seemed ridiculous anyway.

“Stannis, are you even here?” Robert’s “commander” tone again, he had practiced that particular voice for years.

“Yes, Robert.” Stannis felt something inside him tighten, as if his subconscious was bracing itself.

“Stannis, you hold Storm’s End.” Robert simply said.

“I will do as you command, brother.” Stannis replied and left the hall, not paying attention to the hushed discussions that broke out around him. “I will see you out at first light.”

 

Once he was safely alone, Stannis made his way up one of the towers to the aviary. Typical of Robert. _No idea what to do with your brother? Give him the command nobody else wants_. On one hand, he had to admit to himself, he was nowhere near as skilled a swordsman as the other lords on the council. But on the other hand, Stannis had broken his oath to King Aerys to join his brother’s rebellion. It would have been good to be recognised  for that. Not that he ever would.

The ravens of Storm’s End cawed loudly as Stannis entered the aviary. They could tell one human apart from the other, Stannis was sure about that. He’d always liked to look after the birds, feeding them corn, trying to teach them how to speak. Up here on the tower, Stannis felt more relaxed and sure of himself than anywhere else. Animals were so much better as companions than humans.

Stannis did his usual round of the aviary, checking the birds’ health and handing out their evening food ration. One of the ravens, a great black creature with copper eyes, tried to bite him on the finger. Smiling – he hardly ever laughed – Stannis ruffled the bird’s feathers. “You really are an insolent raven, do you know that?” he told the animal. “I am Lord of Storm’s End – or will be in Robert’s name. He rides for battle tomorrow. And I will stay here to look after the castle. I won’t really be Lord. But… but it will feel good.” Up here, he could be completely honest.

Night was drawing in. He would need at least a few hours of sleep.

 

“Lord Stannis, it is time.” For a moment, the young man did not react, as if he was not used being adressed in a gentler tone than his brother’s almost customary shouting. Yawning, he sat up and stretched. “Maester Cressen. I will be down at the gate in ten minutes.” “As you command, my Lord.” The old maester bowed and left.

As he dressed, Stannis found his mind wandering back to a conversation he had overheard between Maester Cressen and his father, a couple of days before Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana left for their last and doomed voyage. “Stannis may not realise it, but he has hidden talents. He may even be better at ruling than Robert.” the maester had said. Unfortunately, Stannis was not able to hear his father’s answer. That sentence had stayed in his mind for the rest of the day. He wondered what Cressen could have meant. A foolish idea. Robert was the eldest, he was heir to Storm’s End – and perhaps even more, if the rebellion went their way. Robert had been raised for ruling. Stannis … had no idea what the future would hold for him.

A last look in the mirror, to straighten his black-and-gold cloak, and it was time to meet the army.

 

The sun was half hidden behind a cloud as Stannis entered the outer courtyard. It was still quite early and there was a chill full of foreboding in the morning air. The courtyard with its thick walls was teeming with riders and their horses. The only sound that could be heard was the snorting of the animals.

Robert sat atop his black stallion, his greatsword sheathed on his left side. Yes, Stannis thought, he almost looks like a king. If I never see him again, I can at least remember him that way.

“Good morning, Stannis.” the young Lord of Storm’s End said and reached down to offer his brother a hand. _This must be the first time he adressed me by my  name in more than a year. Might be he wants to be courteous, in case it is the last time we speak. Or.. no, it is Robert after all._

“Good morning, Robert. Everything ready to go?” Stannis replied. “Yes. We should reach Ashford in two days. Early enough to wait for the Tyrell host, if they really are on their way. We will catch them as unawares as we did at Summerhall. And then we will move north to meet with the Starks and Arryns.” “I wish you the best of luck. Send me a raven about your progress.” Stannis said and meant it.

“May the Seven Above guide you to victory.” Maester Cressen said.

“I thank you, maester. And now we must ride. I will see you in King’s Landing, brother. And when we meet again, we will have a feast unlike any the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen. After this is over, noone will ever have to fear the Mad King again. And I will have my vengeance. Hold the castle, look after Renly – you will be doing just fine, I know!”

With these words, Robert turned his horse, reined him in and galopped out of the castle gates, followed by his army.

For a few minutes, the cloud of dust kicked up by the horses was too dense to see.

Once it had settled, Maester Cressen turned to Stannis. There was a strange look in the maester’s eyes, as if he was proud to stay here with him. _Stannis may even be better at ruling than Robert._ Stannis knew the Maester held him in a high regard, but why that was so, he could not say.

“I hope their plan works.” Cressen said. “I hope so too. Shall we go inside to break our fast? After we are finished, I would meet with Ser Gawen and the others in my father’s solar, to discuss organisation. And someone has to look after Renly. He will be more than upset to have missed Robert’s farewell.”

Somehow, this had not felt as unnatural as Stannis had feared.

Storm’s End was his. He was in charge of the castle. Only for a short while. Nevertheless, he was responsible for their safety until Robert – if he returned. After all, they were still at war. Anything could happen. If Robert were to come upon Prince Rhaegar, the only man that could match him in open battle,…

No, best not think of that today. He had a castle to look after.

 

As the days passed, the garrison in Storm’s End gradually settled into their new roles.

Stannis had riders going on frequent lookouts towards the sea and into the surrounding villages, to stay ahead of any threatening developments. Twice a day, the less seasoned knights were given archery and swordfighting lessons in one of the courtyards.

After some initial problems, Stannis found he was actually enjoying being in charge of the castle. He still had some trouble ordering the other men around – some of them used to laugh at Robert’s jokes about him – but in general, he liked the feeling of responsibility that came with his new situation. He was Robert’s heir and doing his duty. And it was a welcome change, not to have his older brother constantly at his back.

Renly, the youngest of the three Baratheon children, had gotten used quickly to the changes in the castle. He would still occasionally get upset about Robert’s absence – twice he had woken Stannis in the middle of the night, asking him when their elder brother would return. Apart from these moments, Renly hardly gave his brother any reason to worry. His carefree nature sure helped him, Stannis reflected. Somehow, he envied the five year old boy.

 

A forthnight had passed since the host had set off west. The weather, which until recently had been wet and windy, had changed drastically – it had become hot and not a single cloud had been seen for several days.

Stannis had just broken his fast in his father’s old solar and planned to go down to the inner courtyard to oversee the morning’s archery practice, when a knock at the door interrupted him.

“Enter.” he said, straightening his cloak.

Maester Cressen, clad in his usual grey robe with the chain dangling from his neck, slowly stepped into the small circular room with the high windows offering a view of the Narrow Sea. One look at him served to tell Stannis something was very wrong.

“What is it, Maester?” Stannis asked, feeling the tension rising inside him.

The old man’s face almost matched the grey of his robe. “Terrible news, Lord Stannis. I just had a raven from your brother.” “How did the battle go?” Something told Stannis he did not want to know the answer, but he wanted to end the waiting as soon as possible.

“They lost. They were overtaken by Randyll Tarly and the van guard. Fortunately only a few casualties on their – on our side, Robert and the commanders managed to get away in time before the Tyrells arrived at Ashford.” Maester Cressen coughed to clear his throat. “And…” Stannis almost whispered.

“And now, Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne are marching eastward to Storm’s End. They will be here in three days.”

Stannis collapsed onto a chair behind him. The Tyrells and the Redwynes. He felt as if he had been in the middle of a nightmare. The two most seasoned commanders on King Aerys’side. On the way to Storm’s End. No doubt they would have more than three times as many knights with them.

Perhaps they could resist a siege for a while. That was their only option. Meet the loyalist forces in open battle and the castle would fall within a day, mere hours even.

The small council, consisting of Stannis, his uncle Lomas, Ser Gawen Wylde and Maester Cressen, had discussed the possibility of a siege only a few days ago. They had even gone so far as to draw up a plan to prepare the castle for a longer blockage.

And now all their worst fears seemed to come true at the same time.

Stannis knew what he had to do. They had gone over the list more than once.

In a small voice, shaking with nerves, he told the maester: “Tell Ser Gawen and Lomas to meet me in the armoury in five minutes. We have to start the plan now. Get someone to ride down to the city and assemble the smallfolk. We can probably make room for about a hundred and fifty. And tell them we need supplies. Meat, fish, potatoes, as many as they can afford to give away.”

“As my lord commands.” Maester Cressen said and made for the door, before turning round and looking Stannis directly into the eyes. “You are not alone, Stannis. Do not forget that.”

_Yes, but it is my responsibility. If anyone dies on me, it will be my fault._

What would Robert have done in his stead? No, there was no time to figure that out.

Stannis went over to one of the high windows facing the sea. The sky was calm and of the most brilliant blue. It seemed a mummer’s farce, the weather betraying the danger that lay ahead for all of them. He had never wanted for things to take such a drastic turn.

But he had no other choice. He was Robert’s heir. He was in charge.

Taking several deep breaths to stop himself trembling, Stannis felt his resolve returning. Their plan covered everything it could.

Yes, they were prepared for the guests from Highgarden and the Arbor.

All they had to do was wait.

One hand on the hilt of his sword, Stannis left the solar.

They would not meet the Redwynes and Tyrells unprepared. They would at least offer them a fight.


	2. I will not yield

A tense silence hung in the afternoon air. The sky was of the most shining blue and not a single cloud could be seen. Up on the outer walls of Storm’s End, every corner was taken up by archers, their bows at the ready, prepared for the command to fire. The riders were waiting in the outer courtyard, swords drawn, fully armoured. Maester Cressen had retired to Lord Steffon’s former solar to look after little Renly.

Stannis stood at the lookout tower from which he had an almost panoramic view of the surrounding lands. The Tyrells and Redwynes could be arriving any minute. They had had three full days to prepare for the onslaught of the loyalist forces. But now, with the host mere hours – perhaps even minutes – away, Stannis was close to be overwhelmed by nerves. The full weight of his responsibility had begun to catch up with him. Robert would never have felt so insecure. Robert loved battle. Otherwise he would not have dared to call their banners against Mad Aerys.

No, that was only half the story. The atrocities committed by King Aerys and his bannermen were an open secret in the realm. But it was not the gruesome murder of Brandon and Rickard Stark that had prompted Robert to start the rebellion. No, the trigger had arrived via a raven. A short note telling the young Lord of Storm’s End that Prince Rhaegar, the heir apparent to the Throne, had kidnapped Lyanna Stark, Robert’s betrothed.

Robert had broken down sobbing in front of his brother and Maester Cressen. Stannis had been a bit surprised by the force of his brother’s reaction. He knew Robert had been very fond of Lyanna. But he had also heard that he was not the only man in the Realm interested in Lord Stark’s daughter. Besides, Stannis reflected, he did not know anything of these matters. No woman in her right mind would be interested in Stannis Baratheon, whose reputation preceded him everywhere he went.

And it was not the time to start thinking about that issue again. He had to stay focused. He was in charge. All those men around him and down in the courtyard .. they were waiting for his orders. “Stannis, you hold Storm’s End.” Robert’s command was plain and simple. He could not fail his brother and his house.

From the hills in the distance, the thunder of hooves could be heard. It gradually grew louder.

Stannis placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. Whatever the outcome of this might be, nobody wold be able to say that Storm’s End did go down without a fight.

 

Half an hour passed.

Nobody in the castle moved more than an inch, tense, prepared to meet the attack.

Before their shocked eyes, a large host came galopping down the hills, clad in Tyrell yellow and green, some also bearing the three headed dragon of House Targaryen on their armour. The army had to consist of at least fifteen hundred men, thrice as many as were waiting inside the castle. They did not stand a chance. If Mace Tyrell gave the order to attack, Storm’s End would be lost.

A small group of riders broke away from the army and made directly for the gates of the castle.

Once they were within earshot, Stannis called down: “Who comes to challenge House Baratheon?” He was surprised how his voice had changed in that instant. Nothing of his insecurity remained. It was replaced by a strange mixture of emotions – tension, curiosity (why now, all of a sudden?) and fury. Fury at the threat to their castle, their home and to all of the innocent smallfolk around them.

“So Robert left his younger brother to hold Storm’s End?” a slightly amused voice replied. It belonged to a tall and handsome man with curly brown hair, clad in yellow and green with a golden rose on his cloak. Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden. “Not such a wise choice, eh, Paxter?” He laughed.

Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, wearing a blue and red cloak embroidered with a red grape over his armour, joined in his liege lord’s laughter.

“You may laugh all you want.” Stannis shot back, wondering where his sudden daring had come from. “You will never take Storm’s End.”

“Is that so?” said Redwyne. “How many men have you got there, I wonder?”

“More than enough to hold the castle against you.”

“We will see.” Mace Tyrell met Stannis’ gaze. “You may feel confident for a while. But what will you do when your supplies run out? When you see your men and women starve around you? The time will come when you will beg for us to accept your surrender. We can wait. The question is – can you?”

With these words, the Lord of Highgarden turned his horse and sped back to his army, followed by the small escort.

 

Stannis slowly climbed down the lookout tower where he had spent many hours playing hide and seek with Robert, before both of them realised they were simply too different. The encounter with Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne had at least not ended in total destruction. That much could be said for it. But now fifteen hundred men were encamped around Storm’s End – and if the Tyrells had any sense, they would have sent ships out as well. They were trapped, surrounded on all corners.

The siege had well and truly begun. How long would they be able to resist? Five hundred men, women and some children were staying in the castle, in his charge. If anyone died, it would be Stannis’ fault and his alone. Of course, Maester Cressen was at hand to help with any medical problems, but even the maester’s apothecary would not last forever.

But they could not and would never surrender. Robert would be furious. He had left Stannis in command of their ancestral castle. Stannis had a duty to his brother and his house. A duty he meant to fulfill, even if it would cost him his life.

As he stepped down into the outer courtyard, his men immediately surrounded him. “Well spoken, Lord Stannis.” Alester Florent said. “The insolence of the Tyrells is really quite astonishing.” Stannis smiled insecurely. “I did what I had to do.” “And now?” a knight garbed in the colours of House Estermont wanted to know.

“Now.. “ Stannis took a deep breath. “Now we go back to the castle. I had the smallfolk assemble in the kitchens. We must divide up our supplies and begin to form a plan.”

Without waiting for his men, who took some time dismounting and looking after their horses, Stannis turned and made for the castle gate. The siege had begun. And no matter how long it took, no matter what extremes they would encounter, he would not yield. Never.

 

The days passed slowly, turning into weeks, then months. After a while, most of the defenders of Storm’s End had lost track of time. They kept their supplies – potatoes, fish, beef, carrots and bread – strictly rationed, to make them last as long as possible. Most men had begun to get used to falling asleep on an empty stomach.

Nevertheless, for all their efforts, they soon began to encounter serious problems.

Infections spread quicker than wildfire because of their malnourishment. Some days, Maester Cressen would hardly have time to sit down for the sheer number of patients to treat.

Their daily scouting of the areas around Storm’s End had revealed that the loyalist forces had indeed closed off the sea. The line of longships was visible even from the castle.

And then there were the feasts.

Lords Tyrell and Redwyne had brought so many goods with them that they seemingly could afford any splendor they wanted. Many a night, the defenders of the castle were hardly able to sleep for the sound of singing, shouting and laughter coming their way from the enemy camp.

At first, many had been furious at the affront by their besiegers.

But as time progressed, they grew too weary to care.

 

Stannis had spent the best part of the last weeks – or was it months now? – trying to keep his strength together despite their scarce alimentation. Every morning after he broke his fast, he went for a run inside the castle hall. But after a while, he was struggling just as much as the others.

And if their situation was not enough cause for concern, the fact that he had not heard anything from his eldest brother made it even worse. For all Stannis knew, Robert could have died already. Stannis had never given the plans of the rebels much thought, but now, trapped inside the castle, closed off from any news, he found his mind wandering back to Robert almost every day.

Had the Starks caught up with them already? That would have helped them extremely. Eddard Stark could raise the entire north at short notice. Once again, Stannis wondered about the ways of the north. Sometimes, it seemed like an entirely different continent. Impossible to understand and yet he found himself drawn to the land of the wolves…

 

The sun had just risen as a desperate cry woke up everybody encamped in the castle kitchen. “NO! MY SON! NO!” A man had broken down in a corner, holding the lifeless body of a ten year old boy, sobbing inconsolably.

Immediately, the grieving father was surrounded by men. “It is too late, Lord Sunglass. Your son has passed on.” a woman said sadly and attempted to take the body away. The man clung on to his son as if it meant his life. A shocked silence hung over the kitchen.

In the end, it took four men to carry off the deceased. Maester Cressen offered Lord Sunglass lemon water, which he drunk eagerly.

Renly had watched the scene with round eyes. He had never seen a dead human before. “Where do they take him?” he asked Stannis. “Out into the yard. They have to burn him. We don’t know what disease he suffered from.” Stannis never had learned to soften his words.

Renly’s dark blue eyes filled with tears. “Why are we still here? Where’s Robert?” Sobbing, the five year old boy curled up on the floor. “You are screwing it all up, Stannis! I wish Robert was here!”

Stannis felt a lump rise in his throat. Yes, Renly was right. He was “screwing it all up”. The death of Lord Sunglass’ son would certainly not be the last. The first few weeks – or months – of the siege had been more or less easy. But now the dying had begun. And he could do nothing. He could only watch as they fell around him. It was all his fault.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor so that nobody would notice how close to tears he was, Stannis tried to stay focused. He could not and would never yield. Yield and the rebellion was doomed. And for all his initial doubts, he had finally understood that it was a just act. Mad Aerys was slowly crippling the Seven Kingdoms. He had to be stopped. But to be stopped, the Tyrells had to be prevented from joining up with the Targaryen host. They would need to remain here in the Stormlands as long as possible. Perhaps the disease young Sunglass had would be contagious? Perhaps it could spread outside the castle walls? Then both sides would suffer. Long enough for Robert, if he stayed alive, to …

Yes, Stannis told himself, he would stay here as long as he could. No matter what happened.

Feeling better now his determination had returned, Stannis took a bite from the half slice of bread offered as his morning ration. Let the Tyrells and Redwnyes wait. Wait as long as they could.

 


	3. Horses, cats and dogs

„Lord Stannis!“

There was no mistaking the urgency in Maester Cressen’s words. _Who else has died now?_ Stannis closed his eyes as a sudden jolt of pain went through his body. The hunger of the past weeks had given him very frequent headaches, sometimes so sharp that he felt sick to the stomach.

But as with all the other effects of the siege, Stannis had taught himself to get used to it. With his eyes firmly closed, he breathed in and out deeply, counting to 20. _This headache will pass. I have to stay concentrated. I must._

Feeling slightly dizzy, Stannis opened his eyes again. “Coming, Maester! What…” _What has gone wrong now,_ he wanted to say, but stopped himself instantly. That would have sounded like he was losing grip of events, like he was exactly the feeble, “too bookish” young man Robert always made him out to be. And if somebody out of the besieged could not afford to show weakness, it was Stannis Baratheon.

He crossed the kitchen with a few strides, making his way over to the storage cupboard where they had been keeping their few and precious supplies. Some salted fish, dried beef so tough it was hard to chew, pre-boiled potatoes, carrots and old bread that seemed to grow drier and dustier by the hour. Nevertheless, their life depended on the content of the cupboard.

As he had reached the small and distraught party, Stannis was tempted to ask what they had found.

But then he saw what they were looking at.

And had he not pulled himself together, he might have collapsed on the kitchen floor.

His entire body had begun to shake so badly it took him all his – diminishing – strength to stay upright. _Not now. Not so early. We had it all planned so well._

Their supplies were finished. Despite cutting back on rations twice, the storage cupboard was – finally, disastrously, completely empty.

Since Lord Sunglass woke that one terrible morning to find his eldest son dead next to him, others had followed. Nowhere near as many as the besieged in Storm’s End had feared, fortunately. Maester Cressen’s skills and his apothecary kept most of the hunger-related illnesses at bay. The weak had been given extra carrots to help them recover.

But now they had absolutely nothing to eat anymore.

_I have failed. I have failed all of them. And Robert. I just hope I.._

“What shall we do now, Lord Stannis?” Lomas Estermont said.

_They are still looking to me. Trusting me. I must not let them show what I feel._

“Tell the others. And then I call for an emergency meeting. In fifteen minutes. Here. You, Lomas. Lord Florent. Lord Velaryon. And Maester Cressen.” Stannis said, fighting to stay in control of himself.

Lord Estermont nodded and left together with the others.

 

The moment they had gone, Stannis slowly sat down opposite the once so full and fragrant storage cupboards, burying his face in his hands. He could not afford to show weakness in front of the others. When they returned, he had to have a solution present. Yet his only coherent thought was of what Robert would have done.  _Robert would never have let it go this far. And why am I thinking about him anyway?_

Stannis angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, but for some reason they would not stop falling. He was scared, almost as scared as he had been on that terrible evening. What would happen to them now? What about.. no, wait. They still had the horses. The horses were their hope.

When his small war council returned, Stannis had calmed down again. Only Maester Cressen glanced at his lord in a very strange way, as if he had noticed his eyes were unusually red and bright. “It had to happen at some stage.” the maester said, sitting down next to Stannis.

“Yes, but what now?” Alester Florent wanted to know. “The children will not last long. We have to find some way to help them.”

“We must kill the horses. Otherwise, all of us starve and the castle falls to the Tyrells without them having to break a sweat. And that can not and must not happen. We do not need the horses. We are not going to ride anywhere.” Stannis said, not meeting their eyes. He hated the idea of killing animals.

“Excellent idea. I will assemble some men and get down to the outer courtyard.” Lomas Estermont replied. “Bring the meat here so we can prepare it. And try to be as quiet as possible.”

A shimmer of relief. For a while. There were two hundred and eighty horses. Sure, even the animals had suffered from the siege. But their meat would help keep the desaster at bay for some time.

 

During the first weeks of the siege, the defenders of Storm’s End had tried to pass the time by telling each other stories. Stories of their experiences, favourite stories from their childhood… every evening somebody else thought of something they wanted to share with the others.

But as sickness and frustration began to creep in and the first people succumbed to the hunger, their once beloved ritual gradually grew less frequent. Many evenings the four hundred men, women and children simply sat in silence, finishing their daily rations of horse meat, each lost in thoughts.

Only Renly seemed to find something positive about their situation. He spent each day following somebody else around the castle, or playing with little soldiers he had made out of stones. Although he was also struggling, his youth probably helped him to cope. “You’ll see, Stannis. Robert will come back and help us. He will make the others go away.” the five year old told his brother more than once. Stannis did his best not to snort dismissively at these sorts of comments. _He knows nothing. But I cannot tell him what lies at stake here. Best he knows as little about our peril as much as possible. He is only a boy._

Death was a frequent guest in the kitchen of Storm’s End. Almost every second day, a new victim had to be carried outside to be given over to the fire. One virus followed the next. Fever, gastric bugs, infected wounds .. after a while they felt like they had seen it all.

But still, Stannis held on, determined not to give up the castle. He did not know whether Robert was still alive or if so, where the rebels were at the moment. As long as he had no definite news, he would not make a move. No matter how tempting the idea felt. He did not know if Mace Tyrell would accept their surrender.

 

The time dragged on, relentlessly. Days of almost insufferable heat followed one another.

After they had run out of horse meat, Stannis helped the younger men chasing cats in the cellars, beating them to death with sharp stones and then skinning the animals as thoroughly as possible. These tasks took up most of their day, their endurance being severely diminished. But it helped keeping them occupied – and the cats’ meat surprisingly tasted quite good.

Stannis had long given up his reservations about killing animals. Was it the effect of the siege, that it had somehow made him less of a human being? Or was it just the famous determination of House Baratheon that was all too apparent in Robert? Perhaps a mixture of both. That, and a fierce will not to see his ancestral castle in the hands of the loyalists.

The echos of songs from the Tyrell camp were the only noise that could be heard inside the castle walls during the night. Sometimes, if listening closely enough, the besieged caught some parts of the lyrics. _For she was his secret treasure, she was his shame and bliss… A bear! A bear! All black and brown and covered in hair!_

Where they had once thought the feasts an insolence, the men, women and children inside Storm’s End had begun to find them comforting. The songs by the army of Highgarden reminded them that there still was a world left outside the castle walls, that there was something out there worth keeping up the fight. For some, the music brought up fond memories of their youth that helped them to fall asleep.

Nobody was thinking about the end, when or by who it would come. They had other, more pressing concerns. And it was out of their influence. Perhaps the besiegers would grow weary of the wait some day and decide to storm the castle. Perhaps Lord Robert would come back and relieve them. Or one of his allies. It did not do to dwell on these matters.

 

The cats, dogs and other small animals inside the castle walls helped keeping the catastrophe at bay for a while. Some of the more optimistic had begun to write down all they learned about cooking these kinds of meat, so they could use their knowledge for a feast some day.

But there was only so much Storm’s End could do to help them.

Eventually, the defenders of the castle ran out of ideas. The cats had long gone, the last remaining dogs taken off by a particularly strong gastric virus. There were hardly any rats left – or hardly any places which they had not scouted thoroughly.

The inevitable was only weeks away, or days at the worst. Humans could survive without any food for some time, but the length of the siege had gnawed at their immune systems. Some day, any day now, Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne could simply let their men saddle up and ride to the castle gates. They would not meet with any defense.

No, their last resolution had gone out of them.

Ser Gawen Wylde had starved painfully some days ago – a slow, agonising death that nobody who had known the old master-at-arms could bear to watch.

 A couple of weeks earlier, his end could have come much quicker. Ser Gawen and three of his men had tried to steal away to offer the loyalist host their terms for a surrender. When Stannis caught them, he was livid with rage. He had expected a betrayal for some time now, but to have it come from one of his father’s councillors, the man that had spent so many hours with him in his childhood, teaching him swordsplay while pretending to be all sorts of famous warriors from history.. Only Lord Velaryon had stopped Stannis from having the three men flung over the wall.

So, Ser Gawen had stayed on with them, growing weaker by the day.

Stannis had once commanded daily scouting tours of the castle, using the many hidden lookout points to get an overview of the situation around them and on the sea. But now, he had abandoned all pretense of enforcing this order. Whoever still felt like they were able to do something, was free to continue with this task.

The rest.. could simply try to spend their last hours in the world as well as possible.

What would happen when he died? Stannis had long given up believing in any god or afterlife. Any gods that existed would not have let his parents drown in that shipwreck. And besides, the whole concept was a mummer’s farce, designed to frighten the smallfolk into submission. _If I ever had the chance to rule, I would let everybody believe in whatever foolishness they want. As long as they do not force it onto others._ Wherever that thought had come from. He would never…

Yet it was not like Stannis Baratheon to surrender to fate.

 As long as he was still able to, he would cling on. He had a duty to fulfill. And fulfill it he would.

 

The sea outside Storm’s End was unusually calm, glittering faintly in the pale light of the new moon. The longships, such a frequent sight in the first weeks of the siege, had shrunk to black dots, moving further away from the sea.  A sign the besiegers were thinking the end was near? Or perhaps…?

 


	4. A black ship

“Are you absolutely certain?” - “Would I have woken you up if I wasn’t?” – “And where is it now?” – “It has landed under the cliff, down by the old natural harbour. It could be a trap, but we have to find out.”  - “Then I will wake up Lord Stannis.”

Stannis was lying in the far corner of the kitchen, his eyes firmly closed. His mind was racing.

 Most likely his men had imagined it all. According to Maester Cressen, the mind could make up illusions of something one deeply desired. And deep down, all of the besieged inside Storm’s End had one fervent wish – to be rescued from the endless and pointless waiting by whatever means.

 It seemed completely ridiculous. A ship appearing on the horizon and sailing straight for the castle. The loyalist army had closed off the sea. No ship could have broken through their lines of longships. True, they seemed to have moved further eastwards in recent days, but that was no indication at all of..

And what if it was true? After all, the night was unusually bright and the sea had been very calm for days. In such weather conditions, you could almost see as far as Claw Isle if you stood on the gallery. Perhaps they had really seen that ship. The sailor steering it, if it really existed, would have to be very competent to have broken through the lines. He would have to know the waters on the east coast of Westeros like the back of his hand. Like only a smuggler would.

No, whatever it was, it demanded further investigation.

“I am already awake, Lomas.” Stannis said and sat up. “How did the ship you saw look like?” “It was small. With black sails. Quite likely only one man on board. And several small boxes.” his uncle replied. “Sounds like a merchant.” Lord Velaryon ventured. “Or a smuggler.” “Quite possible, in these uncertain times.”

“If it is a smuggler, I think I have an idea who it could be.” said Axell Florent, who was still one of the strongest men among them. “Do tell us?” “I think most of you have heard the talk of this infamous smuggler from King’s Landing? Devan or Davos or something. The description would fit.”

“What shall we do?” “Who among you feels strong enough to go out back and find out?” Stannis asked. It had become a common way for them to decide things. Now their supplies had run out – apart from the occasional insect there was absolutely nothing – it had become useless to keep to their former plan.

“I will.” Axell Florent got up – slowly, to avoid fainting – and grabbed his sword.

The others settled back in their corner. For all they knew, they could have walked straight into a trap. But something told them they had to find out..

 

Stannis had half drifted off into an uneasy sleep when he heard his younger brother’s voice above him: “Stannis, you have to come! It’s Ser Axell. And he’s brought someone with him.” Renly sounded excited – he always did, even now – yet there was another tone in his voice. As if he had seen a thing that made him happy, something he had wished to come true.

So it had not been an illusion at all. Who could their mysterious guest be? If it was  one of King Aerys’ men.. no, then Ser Axell would never have returned. So who was he, this sailor that had braced the lines in the middle of the night? And why did he come here? Had he heard of the siege?

Despite himself, Stannis was getting curious. Carefully he followed Renly to the – extinct – fires, one hand on the hilt of his sword to react immediately.

Two men were waiting for them. Ser Axell, pale with exhaustion, was leaning against one of the once warm fireplaces. Yet his eyes were shining with happiness as he saw his liege lord. What had he found out? Could their nightly guest have brought fresh supplies? No, this was not one of the magic tales his mother liked to tell to Robert and him when they were children. The sort of stories in which every wrong was set to right by one simple event and everyone lived happily ever after. The stories that Renly loved.

Stannis allowed himself a closer look at the man standing next to Ser Axell.

He was still quite young, with brown hair and greyish-blue eyes. His simple clothes – a grey cloak,  white linen shirt, black trousers and very worn out black shoes – gave off the impression of somebody used to hard work. Somebody who spent a lot of time at sea and therefore did not concern himself with outward appearances. A merchant, perhaps. Or could this be..?

The man directly met Stannis’ gaze. His expression was one of interest mingled with pity. To an outsider – and the sailor was the first man they had met since Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne had left after their parley – their appearance must have come as a shock. The months of hunger and sickness had taken their toll on them..

“Who are you?” Stannis said, keeping his eyes fixed on the man opposite him.

“My name is Davos. I am a merchant.” the man said and offered him a hand.

Warily, Stannis took it, but made sure he kept a safe distance. “What brings you here to Storm’s End, in the middle of the night? How much do you know about the events of the war? What do you carry on your ship? And..” “And do you know anything about Robert?” Renly interrupted.

Davos laughed – a seemingly amused laugh, but Stannis did not fail to notice the hint of apprehension. “Calm down, I can’t answer all these questions at once. I would first like to know who I am speaking to.” the sailor replied.

The blunt manner of the man was quite astonishing. He did not bother with empty courtesies at all, perhaps he had never learned to do so. Normally, Stannis would have adressed that insolence, but to his own surprise he found he did not care. There were more pressing concerns. “I am sorry. We have been inside this castle for about a year, it is a long time since I had contact to anybody else. I am Stannis of House Baratheon, acting Lord of Storms End. And this is my younger brother, Renly of House Baratheon.”

“Which side are you on?” Davos asked.

Another dangerous question, one that would have cost him his head if Robert had been there. “Why, we support Lord Robert, of course.” Axell Florent chimed in.

Davos nodded approvingly. “Normally the fights between nobles don’t concern me. But with this rebellion – it’s about time someone put a stop to King Aerys and his men. The land has been bleeding for too long. I have seen my fair share of suffering. I really hope your Lord Robert wins this war.”

How much could a simple sailor know about such matters? Stannis had never given much thought to the smallfolk’s perspective on their rebellion. Up until now he had simply figured that they hardly knew what was going on. But then again, King Aerys’ cruelty had not stopped for anyone..

“Have you heard anything of Robert?” Renly interrupted his brother’s thought process again.

Davos took some time to consider his answer. “I only hear rumours when I sell my goods on the eastern shore. Last I heard, he was riding for the Trident. A huge battle was about to begin. He had his northern allies with him.”

So Robert was still alive. Stannis felt surprisingly relieved. The Starks and the Tullys had joined them. Everything was going as planned. Of course, they did not know who they were about to face. Mad Aerys most likely had locked himself in inside the Red Keep, too afraid to fight. If he even understood what was going on. That could only mean somebody else was leading the loyalist host – his son and heir, Rhaegar. The only man in all the Seven Kingdoms that was a match for Robert and his warhammer..

Taking care not to show what he was thinking, Stannis adressed Davos again. “You still have not told us why you chose to sail here in the middle of the night. You must have encountered the Redwyne fleet on the way, they have closed off any access to Storm’s End for miles.”

What was that look on Davos’ face? Why did he appear so frightened all of a sudden? “I did know about the sea blockage. But I know these waters off the eastern shore like the back of my hand. And I found the only point they had missed on their map.”

Ser Axell shot a very ominous glance at Stannis, who almost immediately knew what he was trying to say. Nevertheless, he wanted to hear the man’s story from his own words.

 “I carry onions, salted fish and beef on my ship. All fresh, picked up this morning at Saltpans.” “Why did you chose to sell your goods here? A merchant like you must know of thousand other places along the shore, places that have not been under siege for a year?” Stannis asked. He had not failed to notice the words “picked up”. Slowly, their guest was giving himself away.

“Do you want to know the truth? I was sailing home to my wife and my two boys at Cape Wrath. Then I came across that line of longships. And I could see Storm’s End in the distance. I had heard some rumours about the siege. So I figured I’d try and make it through the lines, to sell my fare to whoever still remained inside the castle. I thought I’d gain quite a lot from it and I was not wrong, was I?” Davos replied quietly.

“I’ll grant you as much.” said Stannis, who was trying to keep calm at the thought of having something to eat again after almost a fortnight. “But to make it through the lines in one piece, to sail undetected for several miles … you must be a considerably skilled sailor. Or should I say smuggler?”

Ser Axell was grinning triumphantly. Davos paled.

“I can’t really deny it, can I? What gave me away?”

“We too have heard rumours for years. About a black ship appearing at different places on the eastern shore, steered by a young man, carrying all sorts of goods and disappearing quickly when it had been sighted. At first, I was quite ready to believe you were nothing but a sailor. But you began to contradict yourself. You could have said you bought your cargo instead of “picking it up”. And besides, a simple merchant could never know so much about the war. If you are a smuggler, you would of course have tried to stay ahead of developments.”

“All true, I’m afraid.” Davos said. “So what happens to me now?”

Stannis closed his eyes for a moment as another headache hit him.

“I do not have an idea, to be honest. Yet I cannot deny we need your cargo. We have hardly eaten anything in more than two weeks apart from the occasional insect. I can pay you as much as you’d like. But nevertheless, I have to tell you you are under arrest for smuggling. I will keep you here until the end of the war or until I have figured out what your punishment shall be.” he said, leaning back against the wall to steady himself.

“Sounds fair to me. Could somebody help me carry my goods up here?” Davos seemed not the least bit concerned about his fate. He had probably seen the day coming for a very long time. Maybe he had even imagined he would have been beheaded on the spot. That was what Robert would have done. But in a strange way, Stannis was harbouring doubts about that form of punishment…

Ser Axell and two of his cousins left the kitchen together with their guest.

Once they had gone, Renly turned to Stannis. “See? I told you we would get help. And he’s a nice man. Robert will come back soon and we’ll have a big feast for him. With onions, fish and beef.” the five year old said grinning from one ear to another.

Stannis ruffled his younger brother’s hair that had grown quite long during the siege. For once, he shared Renly’s optimism. Only a couple of weeks ago they had prepared themselves for the inevitable. And now they had something to eat again. Brought to the castle in the middle of the night by a little black ship, steered by a criminal. A strange sort of criminal. Religious men would have thanked the gods.

“Do you want to go and wake up the others?” he said to the boy, knowing he had read his brother’s thoughts. “Of course!” Renly replied and raced off.

Stannis slowly walked to the cupboard with the hidden compartment where they had kept their gold. It seemed a bit pointless, counting out gold dragons as a payment for Davos when he could face execution. Yet an inner voice – so quietly he hardly heard it – told him he was not going to choose that option anyway.

 

That night the men, women and children inside Storm’s End enjoyed their first real meal in more than a fortnight. Many had to be told to eat slowly, as they would not keep the food down otherwise. Afterwards, everybody settled back on the floor and slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

Everybody but Stannis and Davos.

Despite his initial misgivings, Stannis found he was still extremely curious about the other man. Who was Davos? What had made him become the man he was? And what was he really thinking about the war? While they shared a salted fish and half an onion in the far corner of the kitchen, Stannis was silent, lost in thoughts. He had to punish Davos for smuggling, that was the law.

Normally, he would have kept a safe distance from the criminal – Robert always did. Yet there was something about this simple smuggler that Stannis found very interesting. Perhaps he would know what to do once he had learned more? Why was he even thinking something like that?

Davos finished his half of the fish and spread his cloak on the floor.

“It’s getting quite late and I need some rest. As you do, I reckon.” the smuggler said and yawned. “I’m used to rough beds.” “As am I. It must be almost a year since the Tyrells and the Redwynes left us here.” Stannis replied. “And you have never considered surrendering?” “Never. Robert left me in charge until – if – he came back. If I surrendered, I would put the rebellion in serious danger because the Tyrells could then move to join the other loyalists. So I have a duty to fulfill. And I will fulfill it. To whatever outcome.” “Very admirable. How many name days have you passed, if I may be so bold?” “I have lost track of time in here, but it must be getting close to my eighteenth name day.” Stannis said and stretched out on the floor.

“You know, we are quite alike, Lord Stannis.” Davos said, lying down next to him. “How so?” “I will tell you more in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night.” Stannis closed his eyes, feeling all of a sudden how weary he had become. A very strange night, full of events that were never supposed to happen in real life. The first time he had felt something like hope since the siege had begun.

 And all because of a smuggler. A criminal. The first person to speak to him in a normal way in more than a year. He was not quite sure what to make out of Davos, sleeping soundly next to him on the floor. He still had to punish him. It was only just.

But in a sense, he could not help wondering what he would find out about this man.

With that thought, Stannis wrapped himself in his cloak. Who knew how long the siege was still going to last? Or what fate awaited Robert on the Trident? Suddenly, all these questions seemed not to concern him as much.

They were safe from certain starvation. That was all that mattered.

With that thought, Stannis fell asleep.


	5. After the storm

It was an unusually cold morning. The two young knights on watch duty strained their eyes to make out anything in the dense fog hanging low in the hills of the Stormlands. Only the outposts of the loyalist camp were visible from their viewpoint on the outer walls of Storm’s End.

  
Yet the two young men would not have traded their task with anyone else. The arrival of Davos’ little ship in the middle of the night had restored hope to the garrison. After weeks of balancing on the edge of starvation, everyone was glad to have something to do again.  
“What do you think is happening down there?” one of them, wearing the colours of House Sunglass, asked his companion. “No idea. They must be pretty frustrated by now.” the other guard replied. Since the arrival of the Tyrell army, more than a year had passed. And despite it all, Storm’s End was still standing, a fact in which the garrison had begun to take pride again.  
“I’d have given up if I was them. After all, their friends on the Targaryen side could need them as well.” “If there are any Targaryens left.” Once again, the two knights realised just how much they were isolated from the rest of the rebels. How was Lord Robert doing? Where was the Mad King? Had King’s Landing fallen? They had no idea.  
“Speaking of something else – do you have any idea what will happen to Davos?”, the young knight from House Sunglass threw another log on the small fire between them and grinned at his friend. “I’ve placed a bet on Lord Stannis sending him to the Night’s Watch.” the recipient answered laughing. “I’ve done the same. Lord Stannis seems to have taken a liking to Davos. I can’t see him being executed. But if Lord Stannis ever finds out half the garrison have bets running on this smuggler’s fate, we’re going to be in so much troub.. wait, did you hear that as well?”  
“What am I supposed to –“

  
The almost eerie silence of the morning was broken by a loud and melodic horn. The noise seemed to have come from the direction of the hills. Excitedly, the two young men looked at each other.Someone was on their way to Storm’s End. But who? Could Lord Robert have come back at last?  
The horn sang again, louder than before.

  
“That doesn’t seem Southern.” “Not at all! Go alarm the others, they’ll want to witness this.”

"Hey, watch yourself, you almost..why have you left your post?” Lomas Estermont fixed the young knight who had almost fallen over him on the floor with a worried glance. “Something’s happening. We, Cedric and I, heard a horn playing and something that sounded like several hundred horses galloping down the hills. I believe the Tyrells are about to be attacked.” the adressed managed, panting heavily.

  
“Take this back to the walls.” Lord Estermont said and handed the young man half a loaf of bread and a fish. It was all he could do to keep the excitement out of his voice. “We will join you as soon as possible. Whatever it is that’s happening out there, we need to be ready for it.”

  
Frantic commands, trumpets sounding for battle, horses neighing in panic. The sudden attack by the as yet unknown host had taken the besiegers as much by surprise as the garrison in Storm’s End. Who could it be? The fog was making it impossible for anyone to determine what was happening.  
The garrison stood close together on the outer walls, their swords drawn and bows at the ready, prepared for either of the two armies to turn their attention to them. Nobody said a word. For all they knew, they could be facing their end at last. If the arrivals were on the Targaryens’ side, sent by the Mad King to finish off the last stronghold of the rebellion…  
But then, why had they heard a northern horn? As far as anyone knew, the North was firmly on the side of the rebels. Maybe Lord Robert had sent one of his allies…

  
Stannis and Davos had gone up the Watch Tower together. Neither of them would admit it to anyone, and definitely never to each other, but they were beginning to rely on the other’s company. Stannis still wondered how that had happened. Davos was a criminal, still awaiting punishment. A seemingly easy task. So why was he struggling to come to a decision?  
“If you ask me, they’re definitely from the North.” Davos said quietly. The tension of the moment had caught up with him as well. The more time he had spent inside the castle with the garrison, the more he had turned into an avid supporter of the rebels’ cause. Something Davos had never experienced before. He was used to keeping a watchful distance from anyone he did not know too well. What had the past weeks done to him?

  
“Why?” Stannis whispered. “Well.. we still don’t know what happened to Lord Robert at the Trident. But that horn we heard before, that was definitely northern. So.. if Lord Robert survived, he’d ride for King’s Landing afterwards? To deal with the Mad King? Maybe the Mad King is already dead. Then Lord Robert would have sent one of his allies to free us over here.” Davos replied.

  
Stannis did not answer. For all they knew, Robert had never heard of the siege. And even if he had, would he care? Would he dare risking the life of his allies just for his two brothers? Or was he already dead?  
They were reduced to waiting. Again. But this time it felt even worse.

Several hours passed. The sun had long since risen over the hills and it was getting warmer slowly. The sounds of the ongoing battle were the only thing that could be heard on the walls of Storm’s End. No one among the garrison had dared to move from their posts. Were the Tyrells and the Redwynes ready for their unexpected guests? If the loyalists triumphed, they would most likely turn to the besieged afterwards. In that case, Storm’s End was doomed. But…

  
“VICTORY! See them running away!” An excited shout from the direction of the battlefield startled the silent watchers inside the castle. For a moment, everyone was too surprised to understand what had happened.  
It was Andrew Estermont, Stannis’ cousin, who first realised the truth. “That was a northern accent. Either this is a disgusting trick by the loyalists, or..” His voice broke as the emotion caught up with him.  
The garrison exchanged startled looks. Could it be possible? Had the besiegers really just been beaten in open battle? It was still too foggy to see anywhere further than the gardens outside the outer wall, so there was no way for them to confirm their theory. Then again, Andrew Estermont was not the only one who had clearly identified the shout as… No, they had not imagined it all.

  
“We’re free.” Alester Florent was the first to find his voice again.

  
As the shout spread round the walls, many broke down in tears. A terrible year was over. They had survived several brushes with death, had almost given up hope. But now Mace Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne were somewhere out there, spurring on their horses to escape certain death. Storm’s End had once again lived up to its famous unconquerable image. They had resisted a siege by an army thrice as large. Could that, in consequence, mean, that Lord Robert had…?

  
Up on the Watch Tower, Stannis and Davos shook hands, both shivering despite themselves. Stannis was at a loss for words. So many times in the past year had he dreamed of the moment the siege would be over at last. He had imagined what he would say, how he would thank all of them for standing together with him. Yet now, the magnitude of the moment almost overwhelmed him.  
“Let’s go downstairs, the others will be waiting.” Davos said, giving Stannis a sympathetic grin as the muffled sounds of songs rang around the castle. Stannis simply nodded, trying to fight against the growing lump in his throat. It was a long time since he had last felt such intense relief.

  
As they arrived in the outer courtyard, they were greeted by applause by their companions. “I had almost given up hope that we would live to see this day.” Lomas Estermont said, shaking his nephew’s hand warmly. “I never did. Though events would have turned out quite different if it had not been for a certain ship.” Axell Florent added. “We still don’t know who we owe our rescue to. What do you propose to do next, Lord Stannis?”  
Stannis felt uncomfortably warm as everyone turned to face him. “I will wait here. Together with Lomas, Maester Cressen, Andrew, Lord Florent.. and you, Symon. Can someone inform Renly?” “I’m standing next to you!” his little brother said, laughing. “Told you Robert was going to come back.” “If it is Robert. The rest of you… those who have not eaten yet, get your ration from the kitchen. Don’t hesitate to take an extra helping, if you need it.” Stannis could not help smiling. They had survived. Perhaps their guests had even more excellent news for them?

 

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, dismounted and inspected his surroundings. Storm’s End was every bit as formidable as he remembered it from his first visit almost five years ago. “No wonder the Tyrells did not dare to attack.” Rickard Karstark said, admiring the almost one hundred feet high walls of solid granite rising in front of them. “This is nearly impossible to breach.”  
“I just hope we have come in time.” Mors Umber added, turning their attention back to the fear that had been a constant companion from the moment they had set out for the Stormlands. “After all, it’s more than a year since Ashford. It would be a miracle to find more than a few survivors.”

  
Eddard silently agreed. The garrison had been completely surrounded for more than a year. There was only so much that could be done to ration supplies. Even seasoned commanders would have encountered serious problems after a while.  
How was Stannis doing – if he was still alive? Eddard had not been surprised when Robert had told him he had left his younger brother behind to guard Storm’s End. There was little love lost between the two eldest Baratheon brothers, that was plain for anyone who spent some time in their company. Whether they simply could not understand each other or something had happened to cause this rift, Eddard could not say.  
He had always felt a connection to Stannis, although they had only met twice. Both were second-born sons of one of the great Houses of the realm, used to growing up in the shadows of their elder brothers. Young men who would have to fight for their place in the annals, who had no idea what the future would hold for them.  
In some ways, Eddard reflected, Stannis had always seemed to be the most sensible of his family. He would have handled the siege carefully, not letting himself be tempted by any insults from the loyalist army. But was that enough to..?

  
“Is there anyone who can hear me?” Eddard called, wondering if their efforts had not been in vain.  
“Yes, we’re waiting in the outer courtyard! Who are you?” a young man’s voice replied almost instantly. The three Northern knights nodded at each other, relieved. “I am Eddard of House Stark of Winterfell, a friend to your Lord Robert! I come with news from the rebellion!”  
“Told you they were Northerners.” the voice said, laughing. “One moment, Lord Stark, we have to open the gates.”

  
The massive wooden doors parted with a loud creaking sound.  
The usually immaculate outer courtyard – Eddard remembered how he had thought, on his first visit, that someone had to have cut every single blade of grass – had evidently not been looked after for a long time. Wild flowers had sprung up in every corner, vines were climbing up the archery targets.

  
A small party of men was waiting for them, some visibly struggling to stand upright. Their pale complexion and haggard appearance shocked the Northerners. What horrors had they encountered during the last year? How had they been able to hold on for such a long time?  
“It was a good idea to bring the Flints. Their medical skils will be of great use.” Rickard Karstark said quietly to Mors Umber.

  
“Welcome, my lords, to Storm’s End,” a young man with black hair, clad in the black and gold of House Baratheon addressed them. “We are very relieved to see you.” Somehow, despite his worn out appearance, he had managed to retain a certain dignity.  
Eddard felt a load being taken off his mind. It was all he could do not to laugh. Typical of Stannis, to put protocol first in such a situation. Or perhaps he was trying to hide his emotions? Understandable. For the garrison, the entire day was bound to feel like a dream. They had probably given up believing the siege would ever be lifted.  
“Good to meet you again, Stannis.” Eddard replied, smiling, and embraced his best friend’s brother.

  
After he had gotten over his initial surprise, Stannis returned the embrace, struggling to keep the tears back. Strange how good that gesture felt. He had tried to keep his emotions to himself for the best part of the siege, firmly believing that he should never let the garrison know how afraid he was. But now the nightmare was over, that carefully constructed shell was breaking down. After all – he had almost forgotten that simple fact – Stannis was still barely eighteen years of age, forced to take on a task that would have challenged older men.

  
After they had broken the embrace, the rest of the garrison turned to Eddard. “What news can you bring us, Lord Stark?” Lomas Estermont asked, trying to keep his voice as normal as possible. The fact that one of Robert’s allies had felt safe enough to leave him alone… could that mean that..?

  
“Only the best.” Eddard replied, coughing to clear his throat.  
“Don’t say that we’ve won.” Andrew Estermont nearly shouted.

  
“Yes, we have. King Aerys is dead.” Eddard said, feeling a chill creep down his spine exactly as it had when Robert’s raven had reached him.

  
It took a moment until the garrison had grasped what he had said.

  
And then, all hell broke loose. “We’ve really done it! We won! Mad Aerys is gone once and for all!” The cheers rang round the courtyard, so loudly they could quite likely have been heard inside the castle as well. Men embraced, grinning from one ear to another. “Thank you, Lord Stark. You played no small part in this victory, I believe.” Alester Florent shook Eddard’s hand.  
“But so did you.” Eddard said. “If you had not held on for such a long time, the Tyrells could have joined forces with the Targaryen host. Then we would have been comprehensibly outnumbered on the Trident. If Storm’s End had fallen, the rebellion would have been doomed. Thank you. Everyone.”

  
“What happens next?” asked Symon Velaryon.  
“I suppose there are more than a few of you who need medical assistance?” Rickard Karstark replied. “If so, tell them to assemble here. Our allies from the mountains north of Winterfell, the clan of Flint, will see to that – together with you, Maester, if you agree?” “Of course.” Maester Cressen said. “The mountain clans are fabled for their knowledge. Even a maester could learn something from them.”  
“I will ride back to the rest of our army and inform them of the situation. We will set up camp in the gardens outside the first wall, if we may.” Mors Umber said. Stannis nodded his approval, half wondering if he was dreaming. Robert had triumphed. Robert was king. That consequently meant the throne would.. no, now he was really getting ahead of himself. Robert had to marry to secure his alliances from the rebellion. And a king had to produce an heir.  
But nevertheless it was the finest hour of House Baratheon. Their parents would be incredibly proud if they could see their sons now. Strangely that thought did not hurt Stannis at all.

  
“How many actually survived the siege?” asked Rickard Karstark. “We’re three hundred and ten, at last count.” said Axell Florent. “That is incredible. Less than two hundred deaths? How did you..?” “A long story. All in due time.”  
“Do you have anything to eat?” Renly interrupted their discussion. “We’ve got some onions and salted fish left in the kitchen, but we’ve eaten enough of that now.”  
The men laughed at the boy’s comment. “Of course, we have brought enough supplies to share with you.” Rickard Karstark said. “Be patient, Lord Umber is going to bring them here.”

  
“What about the rest of the Targaryens?” It was typical of Maester Cressen to turn their attention back to more serious matters. “Prince Rhaegar fell on the Trident. His wife, the Lady Elia Martell, and their children suffered a gruesome end at the hands of Gregor Clegane.” Eddard replied, shivering at the memory of the three mutilated corpses in the Throne Room. “As to the whereabouts of Prince Viserys and the young princess – Daenerys, I believe her name was – we have no idea. In my opinion we should send them to exile and be done with it. They’re but children, they had no part in their father’s crimes.”  
“And the Mad King?” “That is still a bit of a mystery. We – that is, Lord Tywin Lannister, found his body lying a mere foot away from the Iron Throne. He had been stabbed in the back. Nobody knows who is responsible, but I suspect one of his Kingsguard turned against him.” Eddard said thoughtfully. “Then I have more than a distinct idea who it was.” Alester Florent replied darkly.

  
“We have got more than enough time to discuss that now. Can someone inform the others still waiting in the kitchen?” Stannis said. “I’ll take care of that.” his cousin Andrew replied.  
“Would you join me for a walk, Stannis?” Eddard asked. “It’s a long time since I last visited Storm’s End and I believe you and I have much to talk about.” “I agree. Follow me, I can show you a way down the cliffs to the seashore. The view from there is quite beautiful.” Stannis said.

They sat down on the small wooden pier, looking out at the almost opal blue waters of the Narrow Sea. “How are you, Stannis?” Eddard carefully ventured after a pause. “What do you mean?” Stannis replied, bewildered. “I do not want to seem rude.. but you must have gone through an incredible harsh time. I know that it’d help me to talk to someone about it.”

  
For a moment, Stannis considered ignoring the question altogether. He had taught himself to be on his guard for such a long time that he had almost forgotten there were others genuinely interested in his thoughts and feelings. Of course, a warm and open attitude came naturally to those born in the North. But Eddard had sounded sincere enough.

  
So, taking a deep breath and hoping he would be able to keep his voice steady, Stannis answered: “I still fear I am about to wake up from a dream and find myself back on the floor of the kitchen. This entire day has been incredibly surreal. But then, we’ve had our share of surreal events this last year.”  
He had no idea what had lead him to open up so much. Yet, encouraged by his companion’s friendly and sympathetic behaviour, Stannis found himself talking about everything that had happened from the day the Tyrells had arrived.

  
Eddard listened quietly, sometimes struggling to keep calm at the horrifying details he heard. His admiration for the younger man was growing by the minute. Stannis had inherited even more of the proverbial strong will of House Baratheon than Robert. Yet underneath that resilient shell was a sensitive and extremely shy person, someone Eddard found it easy to relate to. Had Stannis got any friends who could support him? There was only so much someone could bear on their own..  
“What do you think I should do about Davos?” Stannis interrupted Eddard’s thoughts. “I can’t make a decision for you, you’re Lord of Storm’s End until Robert.. well, Robert has other issues to take care of. You know the laws as well as I do.” “Those who profit from secretly transporting and selling goods shall be stripped of their fortunes. They shall be given the choice between the Night’s Watch and Death.” Stannis recited.

  
Eddard laughed. “Exactly. But you’ve got another option. I remember reading about it in a historical book from our Maester’s library at Winterfell. It may sound harsh, but it could be a way out of your dilemma.” “Do tell me?” “In the times of Brandon the Builder, smugglers had their fingers shortened to prevent them from being swift at picking up goods again. It’s still in practice in some parts of the realm.”  
They sat together for some hours, finding it increasingly easy to talk to each other. Eddard’s knowledge about the wild flowers and herbs of the continent rivalled Maester Cressen’s. He enjoyed spending time outdoors as much as Stannis did. Their sense of humour – much more quiet than Robert’s – was quite similar as well.

After an extended supper with the Northern army, some of the garrison in Storm’s End chose to sleep in the open, enjoying the unusually balmy night. Before Stannis fell asleep, listening to the sounds of the waves breaking on the cliffs, his thoughts turned back to the conversation he had had with Eddard. _I could maybe even call him my friend one day. But I will never be able to look at him without thinking what Robert has done. He’s essentially replaced me, his brother, with a friend who is – more or less – me. What have I ever done to him to deserve this?_

 

 

Several weeks passed. In what most of his provisional council thought was a gross overreaction, Robert ordered Stannis to take the fleet to Dragonstone to kill the last two Targaryen children. By a misunderstanding, their plans were related to Ser Willem Darry, who was able to flee to Braavos with Viserys and his baby sister only half a day before the forces arrived.

  
When Robert was informed of their failure, he was positively livid.

 

  
Nevertheless, Stannis looked quite forward to the day of his elder brother’s coronation. With Robert sitting on the Iron Throne, someone had to be left in charge of Storm’s End. All those who had played their part in ending the Targaryens’ reign would be rewarded during the festivities. Would Robert go so far as to..?

  
It was the night before the new king’s coronation. The ball room inside the Red Keep was packed with men and women, singing, feasting, celebrating their victory. Stannis, who had always felt quite uncomfortable at such events, had taken his leave as early as possible. Knowing Robert, the following day would be even longer.

  
Stannis was about to climb the staircase up to his quarters when he heard someone calling his name. Turning around, he realised to his surprise that it had been Eddard Stark. “Robert’s really outdoing himself, isn’t he?” Stannis addressed his brother’s best friend smiling, before he noticed Eddard’s serious expression. “Did something happen?”

  
“Stannis, I just spoke to Robert about tomorrow’s List of Honours.” Eddard said, searching for the correct approach. “What did he say?” Stannis felt himself beginning to tense.  
“I am telling you this only because I want you to be prepared for tomorrow. Stannis, Robert is absolutely furious with you for letting Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen escape. You should have seen him when the raven reached us in the capital. It was all I could do to stop him from disowning you on the spot.” Eddard said, sighing.  
“So? I thought you agreed with me that Robert’s “kill all Targaryens” attitude is more than exaggerated? King Aerys and Prince Rhaegar are dead, their ashes lie somewhere outside the city walls. He’s got his revenge for Lyanna. Should that not be enough? Why take his hatred out on the two children, they had no part whatsoever in their father’s crimes?!” Stannis retorted, trying and failing to keep the apprehension out of his voice. Hopefully Eddard would not ask why he had called his sister by her first name. If he found out…  
“Yes, I agree with you. But you know how Robert can be when he’s really got his mind fixed on something. He swore to bring an end to the Targaryens. And now two of them have escaped. Stannis, he has not said it directly, but I fear..” “What?” “I fear he’s going to pass Storm’s End directly on to Renly.”

  
It was all Stannis could do to remain standing. He was shaking with fury – and disbelief. “That’s impossible. He knows he can’t do that. I’m first in line after him. He has no right to pass me by.” “Actually, he has.” Eddard said quietly, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Why could the two brothers not carry out this argument among themselves?  
“Can’t you talk to him? You could convince him otherwise. You have seen what we were going through at Storm’s End. If we had surrendered, the rebellion would have been in serious danger.” Stannis was angry with himself how pleading his voice had sounded.

  
“I know. But Robert will be king from tomorrow morning. He usually listens to my advice, true. Yet it is his right to decide the future of Storm’s End on his own. He can pass on the castle to whoever he best sees fit.” “To the one that held the castle for more than a year? To the one who survived a siege by the Tyrells and prevented them from joining the loyalist forces at the Trident? If I had not been, Robert would have most likely died. If I had not..” Stannis’ voice broke.  
“You are absolutely right. But I fear I won’t be able to talk him out of it. He’s king.”

  
“And I thought you understood me.” Stannis turned on the spot and left.

 

“Your Grace, wake up!”  
It took a while for Stannis to realise where he was. A sharp wind was rattling the windows of the worn-down tower, leaving a chill full of foreboding in the small room.  
“Ser Justin, what has happened?”  
“Lord Bolton has arrived. He’s asking for parley.”


End file.
